


In The Woods Somewhere

by shymillari



Category: Berserk (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, No Romance, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, i literally don't know what i'm doing and i don't know why i'm doing it, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shymillari/pseuds/shymillari
Summary: After a fight, Guts wants body heat.hc: Guts has a type, he likes haughty, average height, dainty yet dangerous men with light hair and clear eyes
Relationships: Guts/Serpico (Berserk)
Kudos: 7





	In The Woods Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> nothing to do with hozier's song

Nothing. Actually, no. Something. But not much.

Awkward, for sure. Embarrassed.

Serpico should feel... somehow turned on?... flattered perhaps?... Guts' sturdiness, his skills in combats, the darkness that surrounds him... everything that makes Guts Guts is appealing. Serpico is not so hypocritical as to pretend otherwise.

Still. This, what they are doing, is nothing.

No, it's a lie. Serpico bites his bottom lip harshly. He keeps lying to himself for some reason he doesn't want to comprehend. Because Serpico does feel something. He is not like those monsters they fight that do not feel physical pain, and he is not like Guts when he wears that god damned armor. Serpico does feel pain.

He feels it right now.

Serpico's head falls against the tree trunk against which Guts pinned him, and he glares at the swordsman.

The Black Swordsman.

Guts doesn't look at him. Whatever.

It hurts.

Serpico could have expected it. No, if Serpico is honest with himself, he had expected it. Guts's body is frigging huge, so that would hurt. Nothing but pure logic there. So the part of Serpico's psyche that had expected it, that had expected the pain, kicks him in the stomach and spits on him and tells him, _I told you so._ Because it hurts like hell.

“You alright?” Guts grunts. He still doesn't look at Serpico. He keeps his face ducked, eyes fixed on their bodies, where they are joined.

“Of course,” Serpico replies easily. But it hurts. And his back itches. Guts had undressed him until he was naked before he pinned him against that big, old, mossy tree. And moss itches. The wood scratches, grazes Serpico's skin because Guts is far from kind and he cares very little about eventual wounds on Serpico's back. No, Guts is harsh, he is raw, he goes deep, he goes fast, he pours out his hatred into Serpico with each of his thrusts like Serpico is his enemy.

_I'm alright_ , Serpico tells himself. Guts is who he is, he is strong and harsh and brutal, but he is not violent or sadistic. If it hurts, it's only because Guts doesn't know how not to hurt.

So Serpico sucks in a breath. He's known worst. All it takes is time to get used to the pain, to eventually stop feeling it.

Guts hooks his arms under Serpico's thighs and he lifts him up, presses his heavy body against Serpico's and Serpico struggles to breathe, but this is fine. With the new angle, Guts pushes into him even deeper and Serpico can't keep the straight face anymore. His face falls on Guts' shoulder and he moans, lowly and longly, unable to keep his mouth shut anymore.

The pain finally, _finally_ fades and makes way for pleasure, so blissful it almost feels like pain altogether.

Guts comes into Serpico, growling against Serpico's temple into his disheveled blond hair but it doesn't stop him from thrusting. That, too, Serpico had expected. Guts is the type to annihilate, take, wreck, and keep on going until he is physically unable to continue.

Serpico's body heat rises considerably. Serpico doesn't like sex, not per se; he is not fond of the feeling of another person's skin against his own, nor the sensations, or the ministrations, or even the pleasure. But every single time it happens his body reacts the same way: as his body accommodates to the penetration he sweats. It's dirty and slightly embarrassing.

“You're hot,” Guts grunts between his teeth. It's a statement. There is no ambiguity behind it, Serpico's body is literally hot. A fact. Serpico never heard Guts say a tender word to Casca, and if there is one thing Serpico is certain of, it's that she owns Guts' heart. So there is no reason Guts should throw a random compliment to him.

Guts sinks his teeth in Serpico's shoulder and Serpico hisses in pain.

They aren't much. They are certainly not friends, they are not enemies, barely comrades. They wouldn't be anything if it weren't for Farnese. Truth be told Serpico thought he would have found himself impaled on Guts' sword rather than on his dick, but here they are.

Serpico's hamstrings sting and his feet tremble with the intensity of the sex, and his back hurts from being bent and pressed against a tree and curiously, Serpico's mind wanders.

When did things take that turn between him and Guts? He wonders if, even though Casca owns his heart, she also owns his body.

She probably doesn't.

He wonders to how many men Guts did what he's doing to him. How many men he has pinned against how many trees, in how many hot bodies he came, how many bodies he kept fucking through his orgasms.

Serpico wonders if he is one of among many others. If perhaps he reminds him of somebody else.

At some point Serpico has closed his eyes, forehead nestled in the crook of Guts' neck. Serpico raises his head, and Guts glances at him, so Serpico throws a dark glance at Guts with his narrow, heavy-lidded eyes.

“There you go,” Guts smirks. “That look again.”

For some reason it seems to please Guts even more than he is eager to say. Serpico feels Guts tense into him and he growls, throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. He's coming, thick and hot and deep, so deep into Serpico. Serpico gives a small, satisfied smile. Guts thrusts lazily another couple of times, breathing heavily. When Guts lowers his head he cocks an eyebrow. “Come,” Guts requests.

Serpico just shakes his head. If there is a thing Serpico loves, it's the frustration that comes with him not reaching his climax, both for him and whoever gets to fuck him. It's a form of power. Totally twisted, sure, but well. He enjoys it.

“Damn, fine,” Guts sighs, seemingly annoyed, but there's a smile playing across his lips. He crouches down just enough to drop Serpico on the mushy grass below their feet. “You're just like...”

Serpico stretches his legs, his joints pop and he winces. That position wasn't exactly comfortable. He takes a leaf from the ground. He doubts it will be enough to clean himself but he doesn't exactly have a choice. “Like?”

Guts doesn't reply. Silence makes Serpico glance at him. Guts stares at some point on the ground as he tucks himself back in his pants, looking somber like he always does.

“Dress up,” Guts says without sparing him a glance. “We've got to get going.”

Serpico doesn't insist. There is no point in trying to get Guts into talking. He slips his clothes on quickly, and he wonders if he'll ever know who is that person he reminded Guts of.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this is basically useless i'm sorry  
> idk i just ship them? why aren't there more fics about them?!  
> serpico is the twink of the century idc  
> (griff is the twink of the millenium i'm not forgetting him)


End file.
